Biding My Time
by storyspinners
Summary: It was hot; unbearably so. On days like this, the neighbors usually found a strange-haired kid, with even stranger colored eyes, talking to his very quiet and rather polite best friend. AU PrussiaxCanada


Author's Note: Not sure what this is, but had to put it out there.

Title comes from the song _Biding My Time_ by Pink Floyd.

* * *

**~Biding My Time~**

On days like this, the neighbors usually found a strange-haired kid, with even stranger colored eyes, talking to his very quiet and rather polite best friend.

It was hot; unbearably so. Like insanely, ridiculously, could possibly die from sporadic heat blasting sun rays kind of hot. It was also one of those boring summer days, where there were literally stretches of hours of free time, but nothing to fill them with. Nothing to do.

And yet Gilbert was running. Actually running. Down a street. Through heat beams of death.

The things he did for people, man. He's a fucking awesome friend that's for sure.

Seconds earlier, Gilbert and his less exuberant companion, Matthew, walked down one of the streets with not much of a destination in mind. Gilbert kicked stones, aiming for a curb or mailbox and Matthew kept score for how far he'd get it.

When distantly, the jingle of music sounded from between the neighborhood houses, a very distinct and easily recognized jingle, and Gilbert took off sprinting.

"Gilbert what—" Matthew started as he picked up the pace and ran after him.

Gilbert didn't slow down as he tossed back over his shoulder, "Ice cream, Matt, now move it!"

xXx

This was fucking _nuts_. He wanted some goddamn ice cream. How could one truck be so difficult to corner?

They had been stalking the music for almost twenty minutes now. People Gilbert ran passed were staring at him in question, but he didn't stop to tell them off. He was acting a little crazy. It started recently, where he tended to do that over small, not really all that important, type of things, so sue him.

Matthew, voice surprisingly steady after having chased Gilbert down several streets and through a couple backyards, pointed to one side saying, "There! Over there."

Gilbert caught a glimpse of it. He flashed Matthew a triumphant grin and moved full throttle after the singing vehicle.

"Move Matt! He's getting away!"

But the truck had parked on a corner now, as kids came up to it to buy their treats. So with a roll of his vaguely-violet eyes, Matthew instead slowed down to more of a walk as they drew nearer, leaving Gilbert to run ahead alone.

Gilbert glared back at him, calling "Traitor!" as a few kids turned to look at him in confusion.

When he got close enough, Gilbert unceremoniously shoved through the small crowd of neighborhood children, pushing heads aside and laughing as they yelped in protest. A couple of them wrinkled their noses at the older boy. Probably because there was this weird smell following him. He might have stepped in some dog shit in one of those backyards, but he could just wipe it off on one of these brat's pants or something.

As he came to the front of the line, Gilbert scooted a dark-haired boy to the left with a solid, "Outta the way shorty," and faced the guy selling ice cream.

"Alright, let's see here," he said, rubbing his palms together excitedly as his eyes skimmed over the various flavors of frozen treats. "I'll have two of the cone things with the peanuts on them," Gilbert declared with an air of triumph.

The middle-aged man in the truck gave him a disturbed look before he turned to the back. When he returned to the window, he said simply, "I'm sorry sir, but we don't have the ice cream you want. Can I offer you a popsicle or something else instead?" The salesman barely looked at Gilbert and instead focused on the, now protesting, children circling the vehicle.

"What! No. No, you can not offer me a _popsicle!_" Who the hell wants one of those. Gilbert's glare held a level of distain, and he was just barely keeping himself from jumping inside the damn truck and finding his own ice cream.

Gilbert turned to Matthew then, who had elected to stand back away from the crowd and asked. " What do you want? This guy doesn't have those cone things?"

"Just take the popsicles Gil, and get out of the way."

Gilbert almost huffed as he looked back as the ice cream guy, who was now giving the boy his full attention, eyes flickering behind him like he didn't understand, and maybe almost... afraid?

Gilbert ignored him and waved his hand hand out saying, "Yeah yeah, just gimme whatever you got in there."

The man hesitated before handing Gilbert two treats and moving on to the next kid in line.

xXx

This was how a lot of their summer days went.

Gilbert and Matthew were laying in the grass. Not one of their yards, just one of those random patches in between houses that never seems to belong to anyone.

Gilbert had tossed the other popsicle over to his friend before eating his. In this weather, it was melting faster than he could get it into his mouth and it dripped over his fingers and on his shirt. He probably shouldn't eat it lying down but fuck it, he'd just been running and was not about to move.

He was also probably sitting to close to Matthew, because the other boy told him to move over, grumbling "Too hot."

Glancing over to his left, Gilbert smirked and waggled his eyebrows at him. To which Matthew rolled his own eyes with a sigh and said, "I meant the weather, not you, you hoser."

Gilbert just laughed and smiled again looking up at the sky as he chewed on the left over popsicle stick. He'd never admit it, be he enjoyed having the time to spend with Matthew on days like this. A woman walking her dog looked over at him as she went by, staring with a worried and perplexed expression across her face.

They all did that. And they all stared.

Gilbert just learned how to not care about it anymore.

"So, what else should we do today?" Matthew asked. Gilbert could tell his friend was probably watching him, but he didn't look back over. He stretched his arms, letting the cool, wet of the grass seep into his shirt instead. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear Matthew's steady breaths going in and out, feel the rustle and brush of clothes as he shifted slightly next to him.

"Let's just. Just stay here Matt."

It was hot, _unbearably_ so. And it was a long, boring summer day. With an untouched and rather melted popsicle to Gilbert's left.

And on days like this, the neighbors would chat about how it was so very strange, when they usually found a strange-haired kid, with even stranger colored eyes, talking to himself.

And they would also chat about that very quiet and rather polite best friend who died last summer on a day like this.

THE END


End file.
